


A Helluva Lot

by clgfanfic



Category: War of the Worlds (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-19
Updated: 2013-02-19
Packaged: 2017-11-29 19:45:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 983
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/690747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clgfanfic/pseuds/clgfanfic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A missing scene from the episode "The Meek Shall Inherit."</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Helluva Lot

**Author's Note:**

> Originally published in the zine Green Floating Weirdness #7 under the pen name Laura Brush and Gillian Holt.

_"People don't_ melt _when you shoot 'em."_

 

          The six Omegans remained rooted in their positions, waiting for the colonel's next order.

          "There are containers in the transport, I want this area cleared of all evidence of our activity."

          "Yes, sir," Sergeant Coleman said, grip on her Uzi relaxing.  "Let's go, people," she commented, marching past the five men.

          The soldiers broke, following her to the van.  Swinging open the back, she waited while the others pulled off their masks, shoving them into pockets.

          "What the hell's going on?" Goodson, the unit's medic, asked.

          "Beats the shit out of me," Derriman grumbled.  "But it's gotta be something big."

          "Those freakin' things _can't_ be human," Stavrakos added, reaching in to pull out the plastic half-barrels.  "People don't _melt_ when you shoot 'em."

          "Whatever they are, the Colonel will explain when he's good and ready.  Now, let's get moving," Coleman ordered.

          "Aren't you even curious?" Goodson prodded, falling into step beside the woman as they headed back.

          She stopped.  "Of course I am, but we're not here to conduct a philosophy class."

          Goodson shook his head, his hands coming up in a placating gesture.  "Hey, Sarge, lighten up.  We just want to know what we're involved in, that's all."

          "Yeah, like I said…" Stavrakos said, striding by the pair.  "The Colonel's got a helluva lot of explaining to do."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          Ironhorse walked into the coach house, a file folder tucked under one arm.  The six Omegans sat scattered around the two picnic tables dominating the enlarged kitchen.  He waved them down as they started to stand.  "At ease, people."

          The soldiers appeared relaxed, but the tension in their eyes and the white knuckles gripping the handles of their coffee cups told him the truth.  He walked over and took a seat next to Derriman and across from Stravrakos.  The others moved to circle around them.

          Someone slid a cup of coffee in front of him.

          "Listen up, what I'm going to tell you might sound a little unbelievable, but it's the truth."  Ironhorse glanced around, making eye contact with each of the soldiers he'd handpicked and trained, hoping he hadn't misread any of them.  "We are at war, people.  And the enemy is _not_ from this planet."

          He paused, allowing each of the Omegans to turn the words over in their minds.  It was Derriman who finally broke the silence.  "Where are they from, Colonel?"

          Ironhorse took a sip of the coffee, then motioned for the those who were standing to sit.  "A planet in the Taurus system, Dr. Blackwood can point it out for you.  Mortax.  These… Mortaxans attacked the earth in 1953, but they were stopped."

          "We beat 'em?" Matthews asked hopefully.

          The colonel's gaze dropped to the tabletop.  "Not exactly.  According to the information I've seen, a nuclear bomb didn't even slow them down.  But they weren't immune to our bacteria, and that's what stopped them."

          "They caught colds and died?" Goodson translated.

          The corner of Ironhorse's mouth twitched.  "I wish it were that simple, Goodson.  They didn't die.  They just went into some kind of hibernation.  The government and the military sealed the aliens up in steel drums and scattered them across the country.  Seventeen months ago some of those aliens were exposed to high levels of radiation.  That killed the bacteria and they came back to life."

          "Seventeen months?" Stavrakos asked.  "How long…?"

          Ironhorse's jaws clenched.  "Dr. Blackwood was on top of the situation from the beginning."  He glanced around, checking to see how the soldiers were dealing with the information.  "Doctors Blackwood and McCullough will give you a more in-depth briefing of what we're up against tomorrow afternoon at 1400 hours.  These… _things_ are capable of blending with a human host.  They acquire the victim's knowledge, but the alien is in control."

          The colonel pushed himself to his feet.  "I picked each one of you because I think you're the best qualified for this mission."

          "Which is?" Derriman asked.

          "To stop these things from taking over the planet…"  He paused.  "…by whatever means necessary.  It won't be easy.  This is a war, and determining who the enemy is can be… difficult."

          Taking two steps away, Ironhorse surveyed the group.  "This is for the duration, people.  You'll be my A-Team.  Over the next four months we'll establish Omega B, C, D, and E.  Derriman, Coleman, Stavrakos, you'll be leading B, C, and D teams when they're in the field.  The E squad will be on stand-down status and provide security here on the grounds.  We'll be adding four more members to this squad at the end of the week."

          Stavrakos shifted on the bench so he could look at Ironhorse.  "Sir, do we have any _choice_ about this?"

          Ironhorse's lips faded into a line.  "Something could be arranged."

          "I'm in," Derriman said.  "The planet's worth being a target for."

          "Me, too," Coleman concurred.

          Matthews, Peterson, and Goodson nodded.

          Ironhorse looked back to Stavrakos.  "Well, Corporal, are you ready to try out the rank of sergeant again and kick some alien butt?"

          Alex thought for a moment, recalling his first conversation with the colonel.  "Well, guess I'm not the first, sir, but I'll stick around and see who's last."

          Ironhorse nodded, the corners of his mouth twitching.  He'd picked the right ones.  "Tomorrow, 1400, report to Dr. Blackwood in the basement."

          "Yes, sir," they chorused.

          He turned and left the soldiers to talk among themselves.  It wasn't going to be easy, for any of them, but the additional troops were necessary if they ever hoped to win this war.

          These six were the core, the next four would blend in, and the additional squads would follow.  If the same level of commitment and dedication could be maintained across the entire Omega contingent they'd have an effective weapon against the aliens, and that weapon would give them a chance, a fighting chance, to win.


End file.
